


Road Rage

by NotASpaceAlien



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Gen, The Bentley - Freeform, slight crossover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-06
Updated: 2015-11-06
Packaged: 2018-04-30 06:20:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5153462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotASpaceAlien/pseuds/NotASpaceAlien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crowley knows exactly how to deal with cocky Americans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Road Rage

**Author's Note:**

> On tumblr at http://not-a-space-alien.tumblr.com/post/126882390950/prompt-crowley-is-the-recipient-of-road-rage-when

Aziraphale had a feeling something was wrong as soon as he saw the look Crowley had as he walked into the shop.  He looked like he was suppressing nervousness.

“Hello, angel,” he said, leaning coolly against the counter.

Aziraphale shelved the book he had in his hand and reached into the box on the floor,* trying not to look alarmed and further stress Crowley out.

* * *

*This box was full of books he had to put on the shelf, but they weren’t new; they were simply books he had taken off the shelf from the other end of the store, put in a box, dragged across the store, and began to re-shelf in the spot vacated previously by the same method performed on a different set of books.  He found that doing this prevented customers from forming a mental image of what his inventory was and thus if they came back for a book they had their eye on they would be unable to find it.  This was doubly true because Aziraphale did not also change the labels on the shelves.  It also made him look busy and irritated enough that they were afraid to approach him to ask for help.

* * *

“Hello, dear.” He tried to think of a way to ask what was wrong without sounding like something was wrong.  He eventually settled on, “What’s up?”

That made Crowley smile, though he was clearly trying not to, but Aziraphale knew it was because of how absurd he sounded.  “Not much, I just wanted to let you know that I’m going on a trip to America soon.”

Aziraphale placed a biography directly under the sign that marked the science fiction section.  “I see.  And I suppose you’re going to get into all manner of trouble over there, aren’t you?”

“Loads of it.  There’ll be no end to the mischief I’ll cause if I’m left unsupervised.”

“I suppose I’ll have to go with you, then.”

Crowley’s face visibly relaxed.  “Ah, that’s good, then.  Er, not good.  But I suppose you could come if you wanted to, to thwart me.”

“It wouldn’t do for me to be over here by myself.”

“I suppose it wouldn’t.”

“Are we taking a boat over?”

“I was going to fly.”

“Erm…oh, I wouldn’t have thought that…”

“What, Aziraphale?  You have wings; flying shouldn’t be a big deal.  Don’t tell me you’re afraid of flying?”

“I’m not!  I just haven’t done it in a while.”

“It’ll be fine.  Want to meet at the airport then?”

Aziraphale flushed with relief and felt very silly.  “Oh, the _airport!_  Yes, of course.  When?”

“I was going to leave on Thursday.  I’m shipping the Bentley over on a boat ahead of time so it’ll be there for us when we arrive.”

“You’re bringing the Bentley?”

“Of course!  I can’t go without it that long, and I can’t miss the long open roads of America!”

They both had a warm feeling when Crowley left the shop, thinking about their trip, but neither of them would really admit it.

* * *

Crowley regretted tempting Aziraphale to follow him across the ocean as soon as he saw [what the angel was wearing](https://cdn3.volusion.com/qr294.ndw29/v/vspfiles/photos/PerformanceFabricPatrioticT-S-2T.jpg?1457088057) in the airport.

“You can’t possibly be serious,” hissed Crowley, who, in his regular sharp suit and red tie, felt ridiculous next to the angel’s loud outfit.

Aziraphale adjusted the sleeves of his Stars-and-Stripes shirt.  “You know how Americans are, very patriotic.  I don’t want to stand out.”

“When was the last time you’ve actually _been_ to America?”

“Not since it was the colonies, I don’t think.  And Heaven knows what a ruckus they made about that.  Best not to let them think I’m unpatriotic.  In fact, I might be concerned about _you_ , dear, because if those action films you like are accurate, Americans don’t take kindly to intelligent foreigners in suits.”

Crowley rolled his eyes.  “Let’s just go already.”

Aziraphale clearly had no idea of the true scale of distances in America; they were landing in the Southeast, and Aziraphale was talking about going to see the Empire State building (”The tallest building in the world!” he had said excitedly) and then traveling that afternoon to go see the Hoover Dam.

“We can’t do that, angel,” said Crowley, interrupting his nattering.

“Crowley, it would be fun.  We should see America’s landmarks.”

“I didn’t say we couldn’t do it because it wouldn’t be _fun_.”

They went on like this for the remainder of the flight, and Aziraphale’s shirt meant he was somehow simultaneously both the most American and most British person on the plane.

* * *

He had been nervous to let anyone else handle the Bentley, but it was in good condition when they were reunited.

He got in and started the car, waiting until Aziraphale had struggled all his baggage into the car before driving off.

“Angel, can we talk?” he said, at the start, because he felt they needed to get this out of the way.

Aziraphale’s good mood plummeted.  Okay, so this is what Crowley had been nervous about, and not if Aziraphale would want to come to America with him?  “Of course.”

“You didn’t even ask why I was going to America.”

Aziraphale’s mouth opened and shut several times as he tried to find something to say.  He hadn’t, because….?

Because it hadn’t mattered, he supposed, because he knew he was going with Crowley either way.  “You’re right.  Would you like to tell me now?”

“There’s…”  His hands tightened on the steering wheel.  “I haven’t heard from Hell since what happened in Tadfield, but… I’ve caught wind of…things happening in America.  I think they’re going to try it again, over here.”

“Another apocalypse?”

He nodded.

Aziraphale sat back in his seat, his cheer for the trip utterly evaporated.  “Oh dear, that is a problem, isn’t it?”

“And Aziraphale, I was wondering…I needed to… I mean.”  He took a deep breath and started over.  “Even though it didn’t exactly work last thing we tried, I still think we make a pretty good team, and…”

“Crowley.”

“Yes?”

“Aren’t we…ah…”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I- I-”

“No, Crowley, I mean-” Aziraphale grabbed Crowley’s arm and pointed at the road, where a black car was traveling directly at them.  “Don’t they drive on the other side of the road here?”

Crowley cursed very loudly; there was a terrible squealing of tires as Crowley jerked the wheel to get them into the right lane.  The black car blared its horn as it passed them, and Crowley hurled an insult and a rude gesture out the window at them.

“It’s not their fault,” said Aziraphale.

“I know, but road rage is a cheap and easy way to spread evil.  That car’s going to take its frustration out on the next poor sod he runs into-”  He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth, because the black car had swung wildly to execute a U-turn and was currently speeding up to catch the Bentley, and he suddenly knew “the next poor sod” was going to be _him_.  
  
“Oh, come on!” said Crowley as the other car began to ride his bumper.  The Bentley sped up wildly, snapping Aziraphale back in his seat, but the black car sped up to continue tailgating.

Crowley was currently reconsidering his stance on road rage being an effective method to spread evil.  He was giving it serious consideration as the black car tapped the Bentley’s bumper.  No, the road definitely wasn’t a good place for sin, he thought.  Not much use for it after all.  It was all perfectly well and good when someone _else_ bore the consequences of Crowley’s actions, but having the damage he caused being taken out on _him?_  That hardly seemed fair.

“This is your own fault you know,” said Aziraphale crossly, and bracing himself on the doorhandle and the ceiling.  "I wouldn’t be surprised if this was divine punishment.“

The road ahead split into two lanes, and the black car sped so that they pulled up to the red light simultaneously.

Crowley silently begged the other driver not to get out of the car and start causing trouble.  This little stunt had gotten out of hand.  An angry human driver certainly didn’t pose a real physical threat to either of them, but it would be inconvenient nonetheless, and their reason for being in America was too important to waste their corporations on something silly like a bugger-brained American getting angry at them.

"Don’t Americans usually carry an excess amount of guns?” said Aziraphale nervously as the black car stopped beside them, clearly thinking the same thing as Crowley.

He gritted his teeth.  "It’ll be fine.“

The window of the other car cracked, and Crowley heard a voice coming from the passenger’s side saying, "Dean, this is a turning lane.”  A pair of eyes were looking narrowly at Crowley from the other car’s driver seat.

Crowley slid his sunglasses down and stared back.

The other man’s eyes widened as he got a glimpse of the snake stare.  Crowley turned back forwards, hoping that maybe the other driver would be put off by it.

The black car’s engine kicked up from a dull rumble into a throaty roar.  
Crowley looked at the other car out of the corner of his eye.  He revved the Bentley’s engine in response.  It was not quite as loud–the other car was newer by comparison, and a muscle car, an Impala, or perhaps a Mustang.  But if the other driver wanted a race, Crowley knew the Bentley had one unbeatable advantage: Crowley was driving it.

“Dear,” said Aziraphale in a warning tone, but he was drowned out as the other car’s engine boomed again.

Crowley revved the engine of the Bentley in response, thinking very hard, about the other car’s tires in fact.

The light turned green.

There was a huge tearing sound and a massive _pop!_ as the other car tried to move forwards.

Crowley nudged the gas and the Bentley rolled forwards sedately, going exactly 5mph over the speed limit for bad measure, and he grinned into the rear-view mirror wickedly.

“You blew out that young man’s tires!” said Aziraphale.

“This car got me from Soho to Tadfield over the M25 during the _Apocalypse_ , while on fire.  She doesn’t need to prove anything to anyone, Aziraphale, and certainly not to some random American punk.”

Aziraphale sat back in his seat, looking sour.  “Please just _drive,_ ” he sighed wearily.

**Author's Note:**

> This picture is relevant :) http://31.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_leznp86ppa1qd6cpjo1_500.jpg


End file.
